


With a Little Help from My Friends

by bluecatrecords



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 05:21:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30134595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecatrecords/pseuds/bluecatrecords
Summary: It takes a village to put on a successful date in Night City.
Relationships: Meredith Stout/V
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	With a Little Help from My Friends

<<<Sometimes two people find themselves at the wrong place at the right time

V saw the message, stopped walking down the hallway to her apartment. She had to remember to breathe. “Butterflies” was as good a description as any of how her stomach felt. _Fuck._

That had been Saturday, at the No-Tell Motel, and part of Sunday; the message came Monday; now, it was Friday afternoon. Somehow, she hadn’t seen the message alert. Too much going on, like the ghost in her brain that had tried to kill her turning out to be kind of a sweet old hippie grouch, unless that was an act, too.

A jolt of anxiety: _Fuck, she probably_ \--what, V?-- _moved on_ \--why do you care?

_Yeah, why_ do _you care?_

This Was A Problem.

_Relax: If you’d seen it on time, you wouldn’t have responded. That’s not the way to see Meredith Stout again, anyway. The message itself means she’s nursing something. An ember? You started trash-can fires with less when you were ten._

V realized she was standing in the middle of the hallway staring into the middle distance. Might as well have been drooling for all of Megabuilding H10 to see. Her face flushed a bit, then bright red as she thought of the tool she’d taken as a souvenir from a whirlwind night.

Through the front door, the swish behind her blocking out Night City’s noise, V pointed her brain at this problem. In the past few weeks, she’d talked several people out of suicide or worse, hammered in crucifixion nails, and shot a Maelstrom upstart point-blank in the neck then beaten his gang to death with a set of mid-tier Gorilla Arms that had cost her entire life savings. 

And then Jack. 

_Getting a second date is nothing._

She sat down on the couch and set a timer: five minutes. _Go._

_Power; influence; aggressive displays of both._ Clicked her pen as fast as the mechanism would let her. _Accustomed to corpo opulence but chose the No-Tell. So, turned on by slumming. Probably likes that I’m from the mean streets, ha._ Chewed on the pen clicker, then on the part where you hold the pen, then on the clip. What would you call that, a belt clip? A shirt clip? Ugh, focus. Five minutes. _Little bit of bondage flavor to her outfit but fucked like normal, just rough. Appearance of status is what matters. Liked that I went through Maelstrom violently and with purpose and kept the money for myself. Fancy cars, champagne, constant threat of assassination. Six steps ahead of the next guy, can’t trust your Militech-furnished enforcers._

Click! 

V grinned from ear to ear and started scribbling on an issue of Jane’s. Five calls to make. At least.

***

>>>Car’s waiting for you out front.   
[A very long pause. Plenty of time to think this was a mistake.]  
<<<I can’t get out of the office right now.  
[“Right now.” Sweet victory.]  
>>>Excelsior Package. A bulletproof office on the go. Make sure they see you get in.  
<<<That could work. But what’s in it for me?  
>>>If you’re not satisfied by the time you go home, I’ll give you the eddies from the factory, with interest  
<<<I’ll be down in thirty or so, but I can’t be seen with you.  
>>>I’m not in the car

***

>>>This looks like Maelstrom territory, and the cab won’t let me out. What the fuck is this?  
<<<No trick. Del will take care of you. I think he’d rather die than let you get hurt. Ask him  
>>>“Del”?  
<<<He lets me call him that.

***

“Totentanz, empty.”

“Smells like cigarettes and methanol anyway,” V said from the upper deck. Her voice echoed through the cavernous, airy space.

Meredith was standing in the middle of the silent dance floor, which looked remarkably clean. She wore a knee-length gray trench coat, black stockings, and heels that looked like they were made of stacked seashells--the latest mass-produced corpo fancy. Underneath, who knew? “How much did it cost?”

V shrugged, did her best to smile mysteriously.

“And the woman at the door?”

“Rhino. Night City’s finest female, uh, fighter.”

“Militech security says the entire building is dark, like it’s off the net completely.” She put a hand on her hip, and V’s heart thumped.

“Nothing in, nothing out.”

“I had you pegged for muscle, not netrunning.”

“You pegged right. I’m a lover, not a netrunner.” V blushed-- _so corny, had she just said that_ \--

“Huh.” Meredith looked around, eyes flickered blue. “What about rooftop vectors? The balconies?”

“Mined.”

“And you had me change cabs, what?”

“Four times. I rolled a die.”

“Huh.” Meredith pursed her lips. “Lots of human factor. Lots of failure points.”

“That all you got? Just because _you_ can’t trust your coworkers...”

“Fine. I guess it’ll do.” She squinted. “Got any liquor up there?”

***

They toasted each other’s health over the table where Brick usually held court, knees almost touching as Meredith sat to her right on a black pleather sofa that had seen better days. The whisky smelled like coal and ether.

“Damn, that burns,” said Meredith, though her face didn’t show it.

“It’s really old,” said V. _Stop trying so hard!_ She focused briefly on the mixing station below and turned on Royal Blue Radio--quite the widget she’d gotten from the runner’s shop in Kabuki. Software in her deck told the mixer exactly how loud to play so that the saxophone was always present but never intrusive. 

“Where’d you get it?”

“Stole it.”

Meredith laughed, caught herself. _R.I.P. Valerie. She died like she lived: watching a pretty girl laugh._ She raised her glass again, touched it to V’s. “To ill-gotten gains.”

Each took another sip. The whiskey was stronger than regulation. V kept a casual eye on Meredith, tried to project chill.

“You know, V,” Meredith said, and V could not keep her eyes off of those lips, wet from whiskey, “Money doesn’t impress me. Everyone I work with is an asshole with too much cash. You didn't have--”

“Who said I paid for any of this?” 

Meredith snorted, and her nose wrinkled in a way that V would smile about for days, V could already tell. “You mean your ‘chooms’ did all this?”

Time for the swagger. V put her glass down loudly, set her face to neutral. _Project the same confidence as a below-average man born on third base._ “Chumbas? Maybe. We’re invisible to the net thanks to two different netrunners I saved from starving to death. One of them, I carried, unconscious, in my arms over dead Tyger Claws. The mines, they were placed by a guy I knocked out while he was having a cyberpsychotic break. He was in the military, still remembers a few things, now that he’s feeling better. Rhino respects me because I punched her out with my bare hands. You didn’t even see our overwatch. Delamain, I helped organize a family reunion. Before you ask, don’t, long story.” V crossed her right leg over her left, used the moment to shift her weight, lean over and pivot, touch her knee to Meredith’s. Meredith didn’t move away. 

V practically believed her own bullshit at this point. She’d done all that and more, and worse, and better. “So, yeah. Could I afford this? No. Not even the whiskey. But I put it together because I thought you might-- _appreciate_ it. The, uh, poetry.”

“The _grand geste_?” V saw Meredith’s eyebrow go up, the start of a smile forming in the corner of her mouth.

“ _Oui_.” _Stuck the landing!_ But that was the extent of V’s French. She imagined a world where she was urbane, educated, spoke Portuguese and Latin, danced the tango, the sort of things someone with a college degree would appreciate. 

Meredith looked into her whiskey for a quick moment, glanced back up. “You’re more than just a graceful savage with an exceptionally pretty face.” She smiled, openly. “It’s been on my mind lately.”

The sensation was like bile rising, except the opposite; it felt like heartblood ( _whose word was that?_ ) and unbearable pressure and a total lack of focus, or a total focus on one person and absolutely nothing else. _I would crawl across broken glass for this woman. Fuck._ There was no time to game it out or even react. It was all over V’s face, totally transparent, she knew it, could feel it, knew Meredith saw it. The only thing between V and total ruin was Meredith’s honest smile. 

It was enough.

***

Some time later, maybe four seconds or maybe six minutes, the details were hazy and not because of the whiskey, V found herself staring into Meredith’s Kiroshis, those pale legs straddling V’s hips, familiar hands at the base of V’s skull where it met her cybered spine. _Maybe they make fingers that let you induce a mild electric current on someone’s skin. That would explain the maddening sensation._

She felt a gentle bite on her earlobe. _Hold it together. Don’t forget to breathe._ She put her hands on Meredith’s waist, unaccustomed to the feel of luxury--wool, maybe? _Need to get some new clothes._ She still couldn’t see what was under the coat. A delicate flick of the tongue in her ear. Very different from Saturday night, two women high on carving flesh from a brutal and uncaring city, testing their muscles and grip and maybe tolerating more from each other than they would have from someone they might see again. 

V’s eyes rolled up into her head of their own accord. The smell of Meredith’s hair was her entire world, and so was the way her hair felt on her face, and so was the sound of her steady breathing.

This was too much. V had to _do something_. She planted her feet, squared her spine, wrapped one arm around Meredith’s back, the other around her ass, and fired all the muscles in her legs. Meredith was heavier than she looked--some serious combat cyberware, no doubt--but V had her own chrome to help. She stood. No concern or surprise from Meredith, whose tongue caressed the cartilage in V’s ear, probed its way inside, accompanied by the smell of sweet tobacco. V rubbed her face against Meredith’s and breathed hot air onto her neck. Meredith sighed quietly and sank her teeth into V’s neck. The pain was electric.

V bent her legs and gently laid Meredith down on the table. The coat opened to her waist. V almost cried out with relief--nothing on underneath but thigh-highs. She slipped her hands around Meredith’s muscular ass and knelt. It was dark in the rafters, but V could smell her arousal, and it blanked her brain for a moment. As she brushed her nose against that familiar clit, she felt how unbelievably wet Meredith was. _I did that._

The sheer intensity of her focus allowed her brain remarkable clarity. V could almost see the thousands of nerves terminating in Meredith’s clit, followed each one to the spine, to the brain, then back to the swollen flesh, and tried to touch each one with her tongue, the way she would want her own to be touched. Slowly, attentively, like each fiber mattered.

Meredith’s entire body shuddered for several seconds as though she were freezing, then it passed. Instead, she moaned softly, almost a grunt, as V lavished her clit with attention, tracing random patterns around it, across it, probing the folds beneath it. She squeezed Meredith’s ass, modulating gorilla strength so it wouldn’t hurt, at least not quite.

Meredith wrapped her legs around V’s neck and pulled her in closer, slid her hands into V’s hair and gripped, if gently. Not that V was going anywhere. Her cheeks and nose were wet with Meredith’s juices. Her own pussy was aching, hot. There would be time for that. She renewed her commitment to Meredith’s clit, suckling it like soft candy, caressing it with hot air. She slid her middle finger into Meredith, looking for the sweet spot. It wasn’t difficult. Meredith’s entire body jerked at the touch. V settled into a steady rhythm there, slowly applying pressure, totally out of sync with her lips and tongue. _My heart’s going to give out._

“V.” Meredith whispered. “V. V. Please don’t stop.”

The sound drove V out of her mind. She bore down like a woman possessed, pushing as hard as she could without causing obvious pain. She slipped in another finger, flicked her tongue against Meredith’s clit like she would die if she stopped. Meredith’s thighs squeezed her torso so hard that she could only breathe with difficulty. She dug her other hand’s nails into Meredith’s ass.

“Oh, fuck, V. Oh, fuck.” Meredith breathed in gasps, almost yelps.

Time passed, or it didn’t. V didn’t care. Only Meredith’s pussy existed. She swallowed Meredith’s juices so they wouldn’t flow out the corners of her mouth. The salt, the smell, the taste, all secondary to Meredith’s swollen clit. V was certain it had gotten bigger. V traced circles around it, one direction, then another. Now fast, now slow. Explored the folds around it, went back to circling. Sucked on the whole area, heedless, greedy. Fast. V’s tongue was tired. Meredith’s fingernails dug into her scalp. Her foot cramped. She bore down even harder. Her calf cramped.

Meredith’s entire spine arched, fast and hard. It stayed there. She stopped breathing. So did V.

The world stopped spinning, briefly. Two people noticed the momentary sense of weightlessness.

Meredith relaxed back against the table, let her legs go limp, released V’s hair. Closed her eyes, hands open at her sides. V could only stare and take heaving, ragged breaths, hands resting on her thighs. Meredith fumbled with the belt on her coat, untied it, opened the coat. V stopped breathing, again, at the sight. A body fit for fighting, just like her own. _I might survive. I hope I survive. To see this again._

“V.”

“Yes.”

"Is it hot in here?" A weak smile.

"A little. Maybe."

“I want to hear a song.”

“Okay.”

“It’s an oldie. Can you play it on the stereo?”

“I think so.”

“‘Someone’ by Anna of the North.”

V glanced at the mixer, called up the interface, requested the song with a thought. Paid 500 eddies to get the album.

A sweet synthwave track warbled through the space. V, herself again, wiped her face on her sleeve and scooped Meredith up off the table--ignoring the cramps like cobwebs--and settled them both down on the couch, Meredith next to her and reclining against her shoulder, facing away. V put her arms around Meredith’s waist and rested her nose on top of Meredith’s head, breathed deeply.

“You must be really turned on,” said Meredith with an appreciative chuckle.

“Yep.”

“V.”

“Yes?”

No response. Meredith squeezed V’s thigh midway up, apparently admiring the muscle. V decided to embrace the arousal. When she finally got off, it was going to be outrageous.

***

“Attention, field units. Residual heat signatures and VOC readings from satellite and local sensor data are consistent with dramatically increased physical activity by two human females.”

“I’m making a note here: HUGE SUCCESS.”

“For now. But the flamingos could strike at any moment. Be vigilant.”

***

“Psst. Panam.”

“I can hear you. Stay on that spotter scope.”

“Who do you think that corpo-cunt going in was?”

“Don’t call women cunts. You sound like an old rockerboy.”

“Okay, damn. So sorry I picked up some bad habits when I was fighting an actual war.”

“In a Basilisk. I came closer to dying when I hunted down Nash. Range?”

“I brought you back that rifle, didn’t I? Anyway, it’s a building. It’s not going anywhere.”

“ _Range._ ”

“109 meters, elevation minus seven meters, wind 224 degrees, six kph.”

“Thank you, Mitchell.”

“How long have they been in there? My back hurts.”

“Not as long as Jake spent unconscious and approaching kidney failure before V offered to help.”

“You’re impossible. Carol, come in. Movement on that side?”

“Negative.”

“What’s going on in there?”

“You’re old enough to know the answer.”

“What? Wait. No wa--V is--I didn’t think--”

“Carol, you can’t see it, but he’s blushing. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“I’m not blushing.”

“Range.”

“Come on!”

“Range.”

“109 meters, elevation minus seven meters, wind 226 degrees, eight kph.”


End file.
